Week One: Meet Mallory
Mallory is a former human resources manager turned stay at home mom to twin 3 and a half year old boys, Camden and Cooper. Mallory’s husband Hugh is a high powered corporate consultant that travels 34 weeks a year. These are her stories.
I awaken to hot breath firing at me on each side of me. “Mommmmmeeeeeeee. You up!” they squeal in unison. Why? Why can we not make it to six am just one morning? I make a mental note to leave a scathing review on the website of that damn OK to Wake Clock website. Works for most kids my ass. Hugh is gone…again. Ten days this time. I got a lovely snapchat of his dry aged steak and gin martini last night as I was eating cold chicken fingers. Love him. But I also kind of hate him.
Third cold cup of coffee as my darling little angels find new ways to survive death by jumping off furniture, sticking toys in outlets, etc. Loads of laundry complete: 0.2 which is to say I pulled some stained clothes out of our laundry basket and threw some Oxyclean on them. Or was it bleach? Shit, I hope it wasn’t bleach because they were for sure colors in that pile. Is tie-dye back in?
I decide to venture out to finally check the Home Depot run off my endless list of errands. I generally hate stores with concrete floors, but maybe the sales clerk will be chatty because I really need to converse with someone who doesn’t solely communicate in fart noises/dinosaur roars. I’m standing in the screw aisle, how many possible screws can this world need? Surely not this many. What was it I was supposed to get again? Damn swiss cheese mom brain. Quick scan back at the cart and BLEEP!!!! Where the bleep is Cam?? That little racecar shopping cart hit a new top speed as we swerved around the aisles in search of that little missing mischief maker. He’s fearless and would totally follow anyone with a puppy/candy/mullet ponytail. As I am about to simultaneously call 911/call for a Code Adam alert, the store’s loud speaker comes on, “Would the owner of a small blonde child please come to the lumber department.” Racing faster than I thought possible, while huffing (and making a mental note to really start exercising…those video workouts would really work better if I didn’t let them play while eating Goldfish.) I make it to the lumber section to see an orange apron clad lumbersexual employee pulling my son off the *TOP* step of those stupid stair ladder things. He was literally 30 feet in the air, suspended above pine planks for the whole store to see. A bunch of contractors clapped, as I tried to decide between tears and spankings.
Still shaken and having purchased no screws, I strapped both boys into their car seats. God love 5 point harnesses. I walked around to the driver side when I heard the most dreaded sound in the world. “Click.” The car doors all locked as I peered through the window to see Coop holding my set of keys and laughing hysterically. 90 minutes and four very nice firemen later, I was driving my heathen children home with no hardware and no self-respect. Only nine days until Daddy gets home. I see a long week of Paw Patrol and Pinot Noir in our future. Certainly not any more damn errands. Maybe I won’t leave the house until their high school graduation.
Happy Monday, Mallory.